King Pharamond

Full enough, friend--content thee, my lips shall not speak it, The same hour wherein they have said that I love thee. Suffice it, folk need me no more: the deliverance, Dear bought in the days past, their hearts have forgotten, But faintly their dim eyes a feared face remember, Their dull ears remember a stern voice they hated. What then, shall I waken their fear and their hatred, And then wait till fresh terror their memory awaketh, With the semblance of love that they have not to give me? Nay, nay, they are safe from my help and my justice, And I--I am freed, and fresh waxeth my manhood.